


A Monster in a Dragon's Closet (There's Got to Be a Joke in There Somewhere)

by ConsultingWriter



Series: Home Fires [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Does that make this Monster!lock?, Dragon!Lock, Dragon!Sherlock - Freeform, Fluff, Gen, Half-Dragon!Hamish, Monsters Inc., Parent!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriter/pseuds/ConsultingWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a monster in Hamish's closet. No really, there is.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Why haven't you forced it out yet?" He tried instead. Distracting his son from his fears was the best solution, Sherlock decided the moment he felt the toddler lift his head from his chest.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Daddy says it’s not nice to hit people, or to blow smoke or fire at them!"</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Sherlock held back an eye roll at the child's response. Of course John would teach Hamish something so morally plebeian.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Monster in a Dragon's Closet (There's Got to Be a Joke in There Somewhere)

**Author's Note:**

> Written during a long car ride on my iphone.  
> Don't forget to review and let me know if you liked it (also, is this Monster!lock, or Inc!lock, or what?)  
> The monster that got Hamish's door is Randall, btw.

Hamish reached up towards his Papa, fingers curling and uncurling in a grabbing motion, as tears streamed down his chubby cheeks.

Sherlock frowned, scooped the dragonling—the frown deepened when he realized how heavy his hatchling was and that it meant that Hamish wouldn't be his dragonling much longer—up, and tucked the toddler into his chest. The crying child tucked his head into the comforting warmth of his Papa's chest, sobs dying into heaving sniffles.

The dragon pet his son's back gently, trying to sooth the babe.

John had been gone for almost a week—Harry had had a 'Danger Night' after seeing Clara at a mutual friend's birthday, and John had decided to stay with her until Saturday—and Sherlock knew the absence was unsettling Hamish something awful.

"What's the matter Misha?" The detective crooned softly.

"Th-there's a monster in my closet!" His son sniffed out, burying his face farther into the comforting chest he was held against.

Sherlock furrowed his brows, unsure of what to say. Simply telling  his son monster's weren't real would do nothing to abate his fear, especially if Hamish thought he'd already observed evidence that told him a monster was in his closet.

"Why haven't you forced it out yet?" He tried instead. Distracting his son from his fears was the best solution, Sherlock decided the moment he felt the toddler lift his head from his chest.

"Daddy says it’s not nice to hit people, or to blow smoke or fire at them!"

Sherlock held back an eye roll at the child's response. Of course John would teach Hamish something so morally plebeian.

"You can fight back against someone, hit them if they're trying to hurt you; Daddy would never want you to be hurt Hamish, and he'll never be upset with you for defending yourself," the father explained "but you still can't breathe smoke or fire, Daddy will be mad at you for that." He tacked on as an afterthought.

Hamish thought it over and then nodded slowly, accepting this amendment to the rule his Daddy had given him.

Sherlock smiled gently at his son's nod—part of him wondered what John had done to him, changing him from someone who was only ever excited or happy when there was a body on the ground and a puzzle to be solved into a _papa_ , into someone who was just happy to be able to sooth his child's fears —and set off up the stairs to Hamish's room.

He tucked his son in and gently reached out a fingertip to touch the boy's nose, causing him to giggle cutely.

"Remember," the man murmured, drawing away from his son "you can protect yourself from any monsters in your closet."

Hamish nodded and Sherlock felt his lips twitch up. His dragonling was such a brave boy, just like his Daddy.

With one last look at his child, Sherlock flicked the light off and closed the door.

Hamish clutched his blanket tightly as his Papa closed the door and curled his tail around his waist under the covers for comfort. His Tigger shaped nightlight glowed soothingly, but Hamish still felt uneasy as he gazed at his closet door.

Minutes went by and the door remained shut. Maybe the monster wasn't going to come back that night, Hamish thought to himself as he settled back down in his bed with already drooping eyes.

He was half-asleep when he finally heard the door creak open, slowly he opened his eyes and tried not to shift around.

Nails scratched across the floor and Hamish rolled over, slowly shift to pull his knees under him; muscles tensing as he prepared to pounce. Slowly he breathed in a deep breath, letting it expand his lungs; he could feel the flames inside of him licking at the fresh air and let the smoke and fire build inside. Daddy had said not to breathe fire on people, but a monster wasn’t a person now was it?

The child thought his Papa would be rather proud of him for finding a way around the rule.

It was on his bed; Hamish could feel it in the way the covers shifted with each step the monster took.  He counted down from five in his head and as soon as he reached zero, he turned himself around and pounced on his foe. Mouth opening wide to let the built up smoke pour out in the monster’s face.

Where there was nothing—that he could see, anyways—pinned beneath him before, as the smoke flowed from his mouth, purple became visible. The monster was long and lizard like. It began to thrash wildly as the shock of being attacked wore off and Hamish wrapped his tail around the part of the monster’s body that wasn’t already tangled in the sheets.

Little growls fell from Hamish’s mouth as he brought his hands up and down, slapping at the monster’s face over and over.

Before the drakeling realized it, the monster wiggled itself free from the covers and used its multiple legs to pulling Hamish from him and pin the boy to the ground.

The monster raised over him lips pulled back to show sharp white teeth “Little brat, I should eat you.”

The toddler tried to hold back a whimper, but couldn’t when the monster tightened the grip he had on Hamish’s arms.

Sucking in a quick breath, Hamish let it explode outward with a roar, trying to force the fire that danced in his lungs outward like he’d seen his Papa do when he was bored. The flames that rushed up his throat and out of his mouth only reached out far enough to burn the monster’s snout. The purple lizard reared back and let go of Hamish’s right arm (which he then gripped with another leg instead) and pulled the hand back to slap him.

Before the monster could bring the hand down the door cracked open and light from the hallway spilled in; standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light behind him, stood his Papa, wings flared and tail lashing angrily behind him. He looked every bit like a demon from the stories Daddy had told him about.

Sherlock growled angrily. He’d heard his son’s whine and had practically flown up the stairs, thinking that Hamish was having another nightmare. His rage had been roused when he’d smelled an intruder in his son’s room, this, however, was not what he’d been expecting.

The dragon was on the monster, tearing it off of his hatchling and pinning it to the wall, before it could even react to the sound of the door slamming against the wall.

Eyes danced over the monster, observing and deducing within seconds. A snarl rumbled in his chest “Monster, can camouflage yourself to sneak into children’s rooms—also useful for scaring them—work’s for a company  in a world that exists beside this one—worlds are connected by closet doors, ingenious—that powers your world using the screams of children. Always second best—most likely to a monster that everyone already adores, being the best is just the ‘icing on the cake’ for them—and that makes you bitter, doesn’t it?” Sherlock hummed, tightening his grip on the monster with every deduction, lengthened nails biting into the scaled flesh.

“Unfortunately, you’ve come through the wrong closet door, and if I catch you, or any other monster, coming through this closet again, I’ll be sending back a skinned carcass. Am I clear?” He didn’t wait for the monster to reply. Instead Sherlock hauled it from the wall, opened the closet door, and threw it through, catching a brief glimpse of a factory floor.

Sherlock roared and let the flames that had been building in his chest burst out of his mouth, scorching the polished white floor and the metal brackets that held his son’s closet door in place in the parallel world. He pulled back, satisfied, when a clump of melted steel dripped from the bracket and landed at his feet. With that he closed the door and turned to his dragonling.

Letting his lips twitch into a small smile as his babe curled into him—maybe his child wasn’t quite old enough to not be his hatchling any more—Sherlock let out a soothing rumbled as he turned to tuck Hamish into his and John’s bed. There might not be any monsters in the closet anymore, but Sherlock thought it would be a good idea to curl around is son and protect him ‘just in case.’

**Author's Note:**

> Really guys, review and tell me what you thought.


End file.
